A Mother's Love
by Kimmydonn
Summary: Story of Elizabeth Masen. First, a clip, Elizabeth meeting Dr. Cullen before the flu outbreak. Then her story from Edward's birth to transformation. not quite canon.
1. Chapter 1: Things to come

"Dr. Cullen? I'm Elizabeth Masen. I'm Edward Masen's mother. You looked after him on Wednesday night?" I approached him cautiously. I didn't want him thinking I was another admirer come to faun.

"Edward," he said in recognition, casting his eyes down only a few inches to meet my son's. "How is it feeling?"

"Fine, sir. With the cast, I don't feel much of anything, except itchy." He scratched around his elbow.

"That's good; that's the skin healing where you scratched it."

"The reason we came, Dr. Cullen, is this. Nurse Hart told me you were here without family, and I thought, in a gesture of thanks, I would bring you some cookies to sweeten this evening." I held out the basket slung on my arm.

"Mama," Edward hissed in my ear, "he doesn't want it."

My face fell a little. "Excuse me, Dr. Cullen." I turned and pulled Edward a little aside. "Edward, I know you may be right, but you could let him refuse gracefully."

"Right. Sorry Mama." I hadn't known Dr. Cullen wouldn't want my gift. But I knew when Edward spoke so surely about something, he was right.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Cullen. Please." I held out the basket again.

"Alas, Edward is right. I'm... I have trouble with sugars. But I know some children in the Paediatric ward that would be most grateful to receive them." And so, with more grace than I could have mustered after Edward blurted like that, he did decline.

"That is an excellent idea. I will tell them they came from you. You'll have young ones singing your praises next you check on them." I smiled broadly, hoping I didn't put him out any further.

He chuckled lowly, "I doubt they'll believe you, but you may tell them what you wish. You keep that cast dry, Edward."

"Yes, sir."

I took Edward's arm in my own and turned to the stairs. As I did so I glanced over my shoulder. Dr. Cullen was striding down the hall away from us, skirting to the edge of a patch of light cast by the setting sun. I saw his face light up. I turned my head forward quickly, hoping he hadn't noticed my stare.

"What is it Mama? Something wrong with doctor?" Edward could always sense when I had something on my mind.

"Not wrong, no dear. I... just think Dr. Cullen is a very special person." He was an angel. I was sure of it. That halo. His ability to work with unerring speed and endurance, even his beauty. And then giving these treats to the children, kindness. I was sure he was no ordinary man.

"Special." Edward repeated, looking over his shoulder though now Dr. Cullen was very nearly out of sight. "I think you're right."


	2. Elizabeth Masen: A life of love

The sun was low in the sky as I sat with my feet on a soap box. I looked every bit a mother in waiting. My sundress fell from the peak of my pregnancy as I lounged. I had fed my husband and now I was taking a much deserved rest. I sipped my cold tea.

And my husband, my Edward, who would be departing soon for work, rather than sit beside me, perched on my soapbox with my foot in his lap. His strong hands rubbed along my instep, up and down my calf, along my toes. I couldn't see his brown eyes, only his mop of brown hair as he bent over his work.

"You know you don't have to do that," I said smiling at him. His fingers were black with ink, though he'd washed repeatedly. At least he wasn't getting it all over me.

"But, your ankles," he argued lifting one of my legs. It was slightly swollen.

"They don't trouble me," I insisted, wiggling my toes toward him. "I'll endure anything for this one." I crooned running a hand over my distended belly.

"You're sure you don't want me to send for your mother? I can borrow the money..."

I leaned forward, putting my fingers to his lips, "No more talk of that. I have had no complications yet, why should we think there will be any. Mrs. Worth has kindly agreed to help me for the first month after in exchange for my help with her canning this fall. It's taken care of. You need to care for yourself, Edward. I won't have you working yourself to an early grave." I traced my finger along the shadow beneath his eye. He tried to keep it from me, but I knew he was doing small jobs in addition to his permanent position as a printer at the Tribune. "Neither of us are getting enough sleep. If this child isn't a heavy sleeper, we'll both drop of exhaustion!" I chuckled and he laughed with me.

"I just want so much to give you everything you deserve." The love was clear in his eyes as he gazed up at me, taking my foot in his hand once more.

I lifted it from his grasp and put it on the floor. "Then come with me to bed. We could both use a quick nap before you head out to for the night." When he rose I stood on tip toe to kiss him and fell back to my heels quickly. He followed with his lips, putting his arms around my large frame. The baby kicked us both.

He laughed and then knelt, "And a kiss for you too, little one." He smoothed my dress over the mound and put his lips to it. So tender, my Edward, so dear. I could have asked for none finer in a husband. He curled carefully behind me on our bed and rested his hands on my belly, waiting to feel more shifting inside me. I turned and kissed him again.

I didn't have much longer to wait. A scant week later I was in Mercy hospital. "That's it Mrs. Masen. Push, just like that." Nurse Hart held my hand. She had seen me several times before, checking on my pregnancy. I doubted I would need a doctor at all when I was in her capable hands. I squeezed down on the handles of the birthing chair and pushed again. _Come along, baby, _I thought._ We're all waiting for you. _Then pain took the happy thoughts again. I gasped for breath and they flooded back, _my beautiful baby, almost there. Come see me._

"I can see the head!" Nurse Hart called happily. "Just a few more pushes."

I nearly fainted from joy and relief, but just as I found a moments rest the contraction seized again and I bore down once more. Nurse Hart called something else, but I couldn't hear through the rushing in my ears. _Push!_

I heard a cry. Then I cried aloud myself. "Yes, yes. Elizabeth. It's a boy. A beautiful boy." She placed the towel wrapped bundle in my arms.

"Edward," I whispered.

"We don't usually bring men in here, Mrs. Masen," she said chuckling a little.

"No," I replied smiling, tears still streaming down my cheeks. I put one of mine to one of his. "Edward," I whispered again. "Edward Anthony."

My angelic baby. His skin was fair and blemish free. His head was topped with dark curls that lightened as he grew. His blue eyes turned more green as he learned to sit and smile. He shared my coloring, but had his father's face, angular, pointed toward the chin. He was a big baby too, 9 pounds when born and grew quickly. I wondered how he put on so much weight. Surely my milk was not so fattening as that. Edward and I read to him and sang for him. I spent my days seeing that he needed nothing and my evenings sharing the joy baby Edward brought me with my husband.

Nurse Hart was happy to weigh him again after a year and inform me that he was growing beautifully. He had just begun speaking, starting with Ma and Pa. Nurse Hart told me she expected he would walk in the next few days. I believed her as I watched him pull himself up on the chairs at the table. He was pulling all sorts of things to the floor when I wasn't looking. He was very careful with the things he got his hands on, examining each article with interest.

Edward came in the door to see the baby holding himself up with one hand. I turned and stepped to Edward, kissing him in welcome. When I turned back to the baby we saw him release his grip and take three tentative steps to us. He wobbled, looked up with his green eyes and then took two more, smiling. Edward swept him up before he could fall and spun. "My boy! My boy!" He kissed the baby's cheek and I felt my heart swell. Nothing made me as happy as seeing my two Edwards together.

I would walk with baby Edward through the neighborhood while his father slept and found other children his age. He seemed to enjoy running alongside other toddlers, playing in puddles and sand with them. I was taken with the burning desire to give him a brother or sister of his own. I hoped for a child that reflected more of my husband as Edward so clearly resembled me. I had adored nursing and tending tiny Edward; I was sure he would enjoy helping to tend another baby. I found a helpful neighbor who would care for Baby Edward on Monday mornings and I would take her son Friday afternoons. This gave me the necessary time to spend with my husband. It didn't take much to convince him my idea was a good one. He was eager for another little baby to bring joy to our lives.

When Edward Anthony was three, I was pregnant a second time. I was sure this would be a girl. Both my Edward's were quick to care for me when I was ill with her. The first months were especially bad. I was unable to keep down any food. I cooked as much as I was able, but my men-folk were left with cold meals most often. The smell of the cooking was nearly impossible to bear. When I was able, I tried to make large meals and cold store meat, vegetables and bread so they could warm them in the oven. I found myself in bed far too often. During the days, my husband's sleeping hours, I would often bring Lil'Edward with me and curl up between them, praying I could have them and the baby too. But always thankful that I had them. Lil'Edward was such a sweet boy, he was often willing to play on his own or with the neighbors. I owed my friends much when I was back on my feet.

After four months I had lost a dangerous amount of weight. None of my clothes fit properly anymore and I wasn't showing as I knew I should have begun to. But my health finally returned some. I was able to eat again. I had lost all my roundness in the previous weeks and had much to regain. I tried to chase Lil'Edward outside as much as possible while I could accompany him. It was good to finally be up and about again. I began to hope again. Perhaps I would be allowed to have my Edwards and a new baby too.

Then, I woke to blood on my sheets. I kissed my husband but didn't wake him.

Lil'Edward had risen ahead of me and was playing with a wooden train. He turned when he heard my step and frowned upon seeing my face. "What is it, Mama? Are you hurt?" he asked me.

"I don't know, Edward." I told him with tears in my eyes. "I think it might be your little sister." I dressed Lil'Edward, planning to take him with me to the hospital.

"Isabella?" Where had he gotten that name from? I liked it.

"Did your Pa suggest that name?" I asked him running my fingers through his curls, trying to straighten them.

He just shook his head. I took his hand and he walked beside me. "Well, Isabella then, might be in trouble. I think maybe, she isn't going to get to see us after all." My voice broke as I said it tears filling my eyes. I wanted so badly to be wrong.

Edward put his hand to my belly, "You stay safe, Bella," he told her. "I'm gonna take care of you. I'm gonna be a good big brother." I wept silently at his ardor.

"That's it, Edward. You tell her." I kissed his cheek. We walked silently the rest of the way to the hospital.

Dr. Bell came and gave me an internal exam while Nurse Hart entertained Edward in the other room.

"I have bad news, Mrs. Masen."

I knew he would. I had stopped listening. She was gone. I had felt her go. My little girl would never be. "I understand," I told him.

"I don't think you do, Mrs. Masen. This procedure, it means you will likely be unable to have any more children in future."

I nodded my head, "Yes, yes. I'll need a few weeks to arrange things." I did my best to wipe my worry and distress from my features. What was I going to do? How could I care for my Edwards?

"Of course," he said sadly and turned to leave me.

Edward climbed to my side. "I'm going to visit Grandma," he said. How he knew these things, I would never understand.

"Yes sweetie, you are." I kissed his head again.

"Why can't I stay with you?" he complained.

"Because I won't be able to look after you while I'm in the hospital and Pa needs to be at work."

"I don't want to go," he told me hugging me tightly.

"I don't want you to go either." I cried clinging to him. I let the grief of my loss sweep over me. My little girl.

"Don't cry, Mama," he begged me. I felt larger arms around me then and looked up to see Nurse Hart on the other side of the bench. She put my head to her round bosom and she patted my head. I cried on her while still clutching Edward tightly.

When my husband woke for work he found me sitting at the table with a cup of tea, spinning my wedding ring idly on the table. "That bad?" he said choking.

I jammed the ring on my finger. "Not _that_ bad," I said hollowly. I had no plans on breaking vows.

Lil'Edward lifted his head from my lap. "Bella isn't coming," he told his father. My tears brimmed again and my two Edwards held me as I mourned my baby girl one more time.

I spent a month without either of my Edwards. My husband came to visit, but it wasn't the same as having him beside me. I was alone in this ward. Worst of all, they put me in the same hall as all the mothers with their babies. Nurse Hart stopped to visit often. She tried to comfort me, but it wasn't the same. I came home a different woman. An emptier woman. Almost not a woman, that part of me seemed to have been buried with Isabella. But I let it go with her. I would be the best mother and wife I could with all I had left in me. My Edwards needed me, and I wasn't about to let them down.

I grasped life with more fervor. I took a spare job to earn extra money, caring for neighbor children the same age as my little Edward. The first was Joseph, Joey his Ma called him. She was working in a public house so Joey was with us in the evenings. Edward didn't like him. I wasn't sure why. He seemed a good little boy to me. After only a few months, his Mama took up with one of her patrons and Joey was off to a new home with a new father.

Edward came to me the day after Joey left us carrying my mother's necklace. She had given me on my wedding day. It was a simple chain with a heart shaped diamond at it's center. "Where did you find that, Edward?" It was normally stored in my jewelery box inside a drawer. He would have had to go digging to find it.

"Joey took it. He hid it outside. I took it back," he admitted solemnly.

"You saw him?" I asked. "Did you try to stop him?"

Edward shook his head. "I didn't see him take it, but I knew where he'd hidden it." I blinked several times. I decided not to ask how he knew.

"Thank you, Edward. I'm glad you found it for me." I held it out for him to look at with me. "You know that this is Grandma Mary's necklace?" It wasn't just hers. It had been in our family for generations.

"Yes, it is special," he said touching the diamond with gentle fingers.

"Yes. I hope you can give it to your wife one day. Along with this," I put my hand to the ring on my finger.

"Mama," he groaned. "I'm not gonna get married."

I laughed at him and hugged him, "Well, remember it, just in case."

My next charge was a little girl, Estelle. She was a little older than Edward and they seemed to get along fine. Her mother worked as nurse alongside Nurse Hart. Estelle's father, Harold Carpenter, worked in an assembly factory so Estelle only came when her mother worked days. Within a year, they started school together and I happily walked them both to and from. I stopped accepting payment from the Carpenters at that point. After all, I was doing little more than making an extra lunch and keeping Estelle company for an hour or two. Jean agreed on the condition that she be allowed to buy us groceries once a month.

I contemplated caring for another little one, but somehow, toddlers and babies made my heart ache when I saw them. Having a child the same age as Edward was fine, but one younger would be too much like trying to get Isabella back. My little Edward never asked why he didn't have a baby brother or sister even though I never told him I couldn't have more.

Edward and Estelle worked together to meet my every need while they were home. One day, after I had placed a batch of biscuits in the oven, they came lugging the flour sack between them. "What are you two doing?!" They were both dusted all over in white. I was going to have to change Estelle to beat it out of her dress before she went home.

"You needed more flour," Edward complained.

"But it was too heavy for Ed alone, so I helped!" Estelle added with a momentary smile.

"I think it's too heavy for both of you together!" I argued and grabbed the canister before they could carry it any further. They set it down with a groan. I was sure I hadn't seen either of them in the kitchen, they'd been doing a jigsaw puzzle in the other room, last I'd checked. I returned the now full canister to it's place and lifted the sack from the top, leaning it against my apron.

Edward grabbed one side and Estelle the other. I laughed a little as they helped me carry it back to the store room.

I appreciated the little help the Carpenters' groceries brought us. I also made a little change helping neighbors with their mending, or selling my baking at the church. Money was never easy for us, though thankfully I'd never had to think about selling Grandma Mary's necklace. I thought Edward and I had kept such mundane matters from our son. I should have known we couldn't.

Lil'Edward was doing his sums dutifully at the table while I finished preparing dinner. Edward was up and ready for his breakfast, his largest meal of the day. He never complained about having a dinner at the beginning of the day. He ruffled Lil'Edward's hair and read over his shoulder.

"Good work, son."

"Thanks, Pa. What will I read in the paper tomorrow?" he asked teasingly.

"I'll tell you when I get home tonight," Edward answered with a laugh.

"Pa," Edward asked turning in his chair. "Do you think, one day, I might come and see the presses? I know what they are and how they work, but I'd like to see one."

"Of course you could. Let me talk to Mr. Grady about it tonight. I'm sure we can find an appropriate night for you to visit. Maybe Monday, Tuesdays tend to be smaller issues, less rush." I smiled watching my Edwards' little exchange. Seeing them together always made my heart swell.

"That would be great, Pa. I might talk to him about getting a post selling papers too."

That caught me. "What?" I asked. "You never mentioned an interest in the paper before."

"I know, Mama. But we could use the money. And I've seen boys my age selling papers on the corners." It was true, many eight and ten year-old boys were selling papers. "I could do that, I'm sure. I won't fall behind in my studies." He turned back to his sums before I could make that argument.

My eyes narrowed. This wasn't the first time he'd answered my objection before I'd raised it. He was too bright, my boy. I relaxed my lips. "If that is what you would like. But please, do not do this because you think we need it. We are fine," I reminded him. The city seemed to be thriving, the paper was growing. It was almost certain Edward would get another raise in pay this year. Lil'Edward might not have seen these things.

"All right, Mama. I think I might like to try," he answered still bent over the page.

I came and kissed his cheek putting a bowl of potatoes on the table before him. "Pack up for now, dinner's ready."

The next week I walked with my Edwards to the Tribune. I thought I might like a tour too. Some of my recipes had been selected to be printed in special issues, and one of my letters to the Editor. I was interested to see how my words made it onto the page.

Edward left us with the typesetter, Mr. Grady. He had grey hair that circled a growing bald spot on the back of his head. He wore wire spectacles and was pulling blocks from a table of small compartments. Then he placed the blocks in a frame that was tilted at a steep angle. We stood quietly behind him, careful not to disturb. Lil'Edward finally stepped forward and reached into one of the cells.

Mr. Grady's head snapped in his direction. "Ah, the young master Masen. Go ahead, take a look." He continued to place the blocks on his angled tray. I stepped closer too, peering over his shoulder. There were letters on the tiles, but they were wrong, backward. The tray was very large and Mr. Grady used a thick rod to keep the tiles straight to the top of the tray.

Edward put back the tile where he'd found it and grabbed another, then he looked at Mr. Grady's work. "You must hate b's and d's," he said.

Mr. Grady laughed. "And p's and q's too." he tweaked Edward's nose leaving a smudge. I didn't understand but pulled my kerchief to dab away the ink.

"I was thinking about taking a paper post, Mr. Grady. If you're looking for any new boys."

Mr. Grady peered at him again over his spectacles. "You were? Well, I might at that. Let me get back to you, young Edward. We'll be happy to have another Masen at the Tribune. Perhaps your mother will grace us with some more of her writing as well."

I flushed at the complement. I wasn't well learned, so I was sure it was pure flattery. Edward pulled on my hand and whispered, "He means it, Mama. You do write well." My smile broadened. Edward would never simply flatter me. I was unable to answer aloud though. My son must have sensed that as he excused us. "We'll let you get back to work, Mr. Grady. I look forward to reading about the Stockings' game tomorrow." I looked at the tray again and was now able to read, "Stockings 5 Brewers 2" It was very difficult with all the letters backward.

Edward was pulling me away. We crossed to the other end of the room where his father stood next to an enormous drum. He grinned at us and started the monstrosity up. It was painfully loud. No wonder he needed me to shout to wake him. I was amazed he had any hearing left at all. I covered my ears to drown the noise. As I watched I saw a pin roll over a tray, the same size as the one Mr. Grady was working on, and a plate press down from above, pulling the paper from the drum Edward was standing beside and then lift quickly. The roll on the opposite site pulled the paper along, over our heads.

The machine had only been on a few minutes when Edward turned it off again. I watched as he adjusted the drum so the paper was in line with the press again. He started the press up and pointed to the other end of the room. He stayed where he was while Lil'Edward and I continued the tour.

Here the paper descended and was cut and folded. I watched agape. Certainly, growing on a small farm, I had never guessed such things were possible. Edward squeezed my hand and led me from the noisy premises.

"You liked it?" he asked me, his grin wide.

"Yes. You did too."

"I think I'd like to work at the paper one day." He was barely ten. He wouldn't do more than sell papers for a few years yet. I wondered if he'd change his mind before those years passed.

As Edward took his paper post, I was happier than ever to have Estelle with me in the evenings. Although she was certainly old enough to care for herself for the few hours until her father finished work, she would bring groceries and we would make our meal together and pack part for her to take home. I missed Edward at the table in the afternoon, reading or doing sums. On the days neither he nor Estelle were there I decided to take Mr. Grady's advice. I wrote ladies articles and submitted them to the editor of the Tribune. The first few were rejected, but each was returned with helpful hints on how to improve my writing. He also warned that such pieces would only be placed in issues with extra space. I learned to write succinctly, boiling my thoughts down to as few letters as possible. Soon I was a regular contributor. Little Edward started to build a scrap book with my articles.

"It will take a long time to fill a book with those tiny fragments," I teased him. "And only your wife will be interested in its contents."

"I'm interested," he argued. I pulled off his cap and ruffled his hair.

It was two years later on a Wednesday night when Edward didn't come home for dinner. I left Estelle to watch the meal and went looking for him. He was still at his post, his papers were scattered around him and he cradled his arm. I ran to him pulling off my shawl and wrapping his bleeding arm. "What happened?!" I demanded.

"My papers," he complained. I saw bloody handprints on several nearby. Had he really been trying to gather them?

I plucked up as much of the pile as was left and tucked it under my arm, "I have them and you. Let's get you to the hospital."

I left him with Nurse Hart in the waiting area while I ran home to tell Edward what had happened. Of course, I didn't have much of an answer. Our boy's arm was obviously broken, but I didn't know how or why. Estelle was just packing up her share to take home when I came in.

"Edward?" she asked, expecting to see both of us.

I shook my head. "I left him at the hospital." I shoved the papers at his Pa. "He seemed to think guarding these was more important than getting help."

Edward growled slightly. "Then I suppose he needs a lesson in priorities. I'll take care of these," he said sweeping them up. "And the dishes too, you get back to the hospital."

Estelle pressed her dinner into my hands, "Take this. I'll pack up the rest before I go."

I touched her cheek and kissed my husband. "Thank you." I turned and ran back to my son.

He was already taken care of when I returned. I escorted him back to the waiting area and gave him dinner. His cheeks were tear-streaked but he didn't seem to have any trouble using the fingers of his left hand where they poked out of his cast. When Nurse Hart had a minute she came over to us. "How are you doing, Edward? All set to go home again?"

He just nodded, his mouth full.

"Who saw him?" I asked.

"The new Doctor. Dr. Cullen. Just came on a month or two back," her eyes glittered; she had more to tell.

"Do you need to get back to work? Would you like to eat with us?" I offered her my share of dinner.

She smiled broadly taking the invitation. "Last I spoke with Jean Carpenter she hadn't mentioned a new doctor," I pried very slightly.

"I wonder why. I don't know a woman in the building who wouldn't be telling you about him. Young, blond, handsome AND a doctor? And he prefers night shifts, so the other physicians are thrilled to have him. Of course I've had a glut of nurses looking to take night shifts."

"So that's why I've seen so much of Estelle lately," I said with a smile.

Nurse Hart snorted. "At least Jean is more subtle than some. And she is useful to him. Some of the newer nurses forget the difference between forceps and a scalpel when he's in the room. Part of the reason I've been on nights so much, I'm too old to get that worked up."

I chuckled with her. "Oh, I'm sure you're not too old, just too sensible."

"You flatter me, dear." She patted my hand. "He is very talented. I've assisted him in surgery, swift and efficient. I've never had so many patients come through post-op so smoothly. And he never leaves until all his patients are seen to. He worked 20 hours straight the other day and didn't look weary at all." Her eyes fell on Edward now, "And you! Young man, you watch carefully for those new motorcars. They're a menace to society. I swear it."

Was that what had happened? I looked to Edward. He didn't want to talk about it. "Thanks for staying with him Nurse Hart. Tell me, would I be able to call on Mrs. Cullen? Send my thanks that way?"

"There is no Mrs. Cullen, Elizabeth," she said somberly. "As far as I know he has no family here. Don't spread that around, mind. The women here are terrible as it is," the last was a hoarse whisper.

I shook my head, "Of course not." I would make sure Dr. Cullen did not feel as though he had not a family in the city. It was something I could give him in return. I ran my hand down Edward's cheek and cupped his chin. Then I kissed his nose. He smiled back at me.

On Thursday I walked over to the Carpenters to learn more of Dr. Cullen. Unfortunately, all I got was a complete description of his eyes. Honestly, Jean had a husband! "But what sort of _man_ is he? An outdoorsman? A thinker? A romantic?" How much prompting did she need?

"He's, he's a doctor." I gave up and listened to the rest of her facial description before excusing myself.

On Friday I brought my raspberry thumbprint cookies to the hospital and found Nurse Hart. "I have a gift for Dr. Cullen. Would you pass it along to him?"

She looked up at me, "Just because it's you dear, go on in. He's somewhere between here and the stairs. Edward can point him out to you." She nodded to Edward behind me. I gathered I wasn't the only woman dropping by with gifts for the fair doctor.

We met him in the hall. She was right, he was handsome. Tall, blond and very fair. Edward shuffled behind me. Why was he reluctant?

"Dr. Cullen? I'm Elizabeth Masen. I'm Edward Masen's mother. You looked after him on Wednesday night?" I approached him cautiously. I didn't want him thinking I was another admirer come to faun.

"Edward," he said in recognition, casting his eyes down only a few inches to meet my son's. "How is it feeling?"

"Fine, sir. With the cast, I don't feel much of anything, except itchy." He scratched around his elbow.

"That's good; that's the skin healing where you scratched it."

"The reason we came, Dr. Cullen, is this. Nurse Hart told me you were here without family, and I thought, in a gesture of thanks, I would bring you some cookies to sweeten this evening." I held out the basket slung on my arm.

"Mama," Edward hissed in my ear, "he doesn't want it."

My face fell a little. "Excuse me, Dr. Cullen." I turned and pulled Edward a little aside. "Edward, I know you may be right, but you could let him refuse gracefully."

"Right. Sorry Mama." I hadn't known Dr. Cullen wouldn't want my gift. But I knew when Edward spoke so surely about something, he was right.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Cullen. Please." I held out the basket again.

"Alas, Edward is right. I'm... I have trouble with sugars. But I know some children in the Paediatric ward that would be most grateful to receive them." And so, with more grace than I could have mustered after Edward blurted like that, he did decline.

"That is an excellent idea. I will tell them they came from you. You'll have young ones singing your praises next you check on them." I smiled broadly, hoping I didn't put him out any further.

He chuckled lowly, "I doubt they'll believe you, but you may tell them what you wish. You keep that cast dry, Edward."

"Yes, sir."

I took Edward's arm in my own and turned to the stairs. As I did so I glanced over my shoulder. Dr. Cullen was striding down the hall away from us, skirting to the edge of a patch of light cast by the setting sun. I saw his face light up. I turned my head forward quickly, hoping he hadn't noticed my stare.

"What is it Mama? Something wrong with doctor?" Edward could always sense when I had something on my mind.

"Not wrong, no dear. I..." I glanced over my shoulder again, "just think Dr. Cullen is a very special person." He was an angel. I was sure of it. That halo. His ability to work with unerring speed and endurance, even his beauty. And then giving these treats to the children, kindness. I was sure he was no ordinary man.

"Special." Edward repeated, looking over his shoulder, though now Dr. Cullen was very nearly out of sight. "I think you're right."

A week later, I stopped by the hospital one afternoon before Edward was due home. Nurse Hart shook her head at me. "I thought _you _could resist, Elizabeth."

I shushed her. "I'm not here to see him," I complained. "But the cookies were obviously a poor thank you. Could you suggest something else?" I looked at her pleading.

"Not really. He's never accepted any food. He seems most happy with written thank you's. He has several cards in his locker." She closed her eyes. A blush creeped up her face into her nearly white hair. "I did _not_ just tell you that."

"Of course you didn't." I told her straight-faced.

"You must understand that you aren't the only one curious about him. He is a singular man."

"I never thought I was. And thank you." I touched her hand before departing.

That night, after Edward was in bed I took my pen to paper. In the end I had crafted an essay detailing every nuance of Edward's nature. Everything that made him my life, my joy. Everything Dr. Cullen had given back to me. I spent the rest of the week editing it, making it perfect. I took a new sheet and wrote simply on it, _Thank you for giving him back to me. Elizabeth Masen._ I folded the two together with the intention of dropping them at the hospital in the morning.

It wasn't even a year later that war struck in the old World. I was thankful my Edward was too young to be involved and my country far enough to keep clear of the hostilities. It was in amidst these thoughts that little Edward brought me a letter.

"Dr. Cullen asked me to give this to you. He wanted to thank you for your letter." Edward kissed my cheek. "I love you, Mama." A kiss from your teen-aged son can be heady indeed. I opened the letter eagerly.

_Thank you so much for the tribute to Edward. It is good to know my work is appreciated. It is for those such as Edward that I am called to this place. Your love for him is a testament to you both. I pray I need never see either of you again. Dr. Carlisle Cullen.  
_  
That was a doctor. The man you never want to see again. I chuckled and gave the letter to Edward. "I was sure he wanted to see you again."

"Not in the hospital," I clarified. He nodded.

I began working on another essay, this one about Nurse Hart. It took longer to craft, my knowledge of her less intimate. A few months later I delivered the final draft to the hospital with a copy for the Nurse. "Thank you, Eloise," it was the first time I'd used her first name. I kissed her cheek, leaving the addressed pages.

I turned to leave and walked right into Dr. Cullen himself. "Oh! Excuse me, Dr. Cullen."

"Mrs. Masen. You and your family are well, I hope." His eyes were golden colored. Although I had heard of them, I had never seen the like. Something in his gaze seemed to root me to the floor.

"Yes, thank you, Doctor. I was just...." A blush was starting to creep into my cheeks.

Nurse Hart interrupted me. "Oh, Elizabeth," she was weepy. I grasped the escape.

"Excuse us, Dr. Cullen," I turned and ushered her a little way away. "I know I never said it in so many words, but you do so much for everyone who comes in here. Some may not notice, but I did." I kissed her forehead and squeezed her shoulder. "Now, come along. I'd have waited until the end of your shift to deliver if I'd expected this." I passed her my kerchief and she dabbed her eyes quickly. "There." I said straightening her up.

"Thank you, Elizabeth."

"Any time." I said patting her arm as she went back to the desk. Dr. Cullen was reading my essay as I watched. I hoped he liked it.

Several weeks later Edward brought home another letter from Dr. Cullen, this one much longer than the last; detailing me, of all people. I couldn't help but blush and titter as I read it. Each of my Edwards took turns reading over my shoulder. The younger first. "Aw, he doesn't know the half," he told me, kissing my cheek again. "Do I need to stake my claim again?" my husband asked.

I grabbed his collar and pulled him down for a kiss. "Absolutely not." When I was sure I had made my point I put supper on the table. I decided he must be the topic of my next essay. This one not to be delivered to Dr. Cullen.

It was in this interval that Edward dropped his paper post. Preferring instead to write and read as much about the war overseas as he could get his hands on. His fascination bothered me to no end. He knew it, but refused to acknowledge my concerns. He just swapped the paper for his school books when I approached. A tentative balance existed between Edward and I. We understood each other far too well. We each avoided putting the other at odds. In this case, it meant we avoided each other. It was painful. I missed spending time with my son. Even though we didn't often talk, we shared something deeper when we were together, and that was slipping away from me. He was growing into a man and contemplating a man's world. His mother's world wasn't his own any more. One day, I knew, he would leave me to fight in this fool war. It scared me more than I was willing to admit.

Edward and I began writing dueling letters to the editor, a surprising number of which made it to print. He would explain the need for our support overseas. How the threat was growing. In reply I would argue how we need not send our sons to die for their cause. He would chastise the president for not contributing more to the effort. I would praise him for his levelheadedness and patience. My husband was driven to distraction by the two of us. "Would you two just _talk_ to one another about it." But neither of us acknowledged his concerns. Our fight was not personal; it was not emotional, or not entirely so. It was philosophical, and we could happily argue in print what neither of us could say to the other aloud.

Even as my son and I wrestled with words for each other, I wrestled with my words for another. I had intended to write an ode to my husband and it took even longer to craft than Nurse Hart's. There was so much to say, but I didn't want it to be too long. I searched for just the right words, just the right sentiments. I even asked Little Edward to help me, one of the few times we interacted in that period. He was happy to review it, though appalled at the content. Finally my essay for my husband was complete; Edward found it on his pillow when he got home from work.

I didn't get much done that day. Fortunately Estelle was over and started supper without me. She was developing into a beautiful young woman, sixteen now. Was my little Edward so old? He would be running away on me sooner than I imagined. It didn't seem so long ago I held him in my arms. Was I so old? I couldn't resist peeking at my reflection in one of my pots. My green eyes were still bright with only small creases at the corners. My brown hair still shone with red. I'd gained back some of the weight I'd lost so long ago, but was still slim. I didn't think I looked like a thirty year old, certainly not thirty-five, which I was fast approaching.

Estelle noticed my assessment. "You look beautiful, Mrs. Masen. Especially so today. Your cheeks are rosy."

I smiled and blushed. "Well, thank you, Estelle. And thank you for starting the roast for me."

"It was no trouble." Her blond curls bounced as she turned back to her pot of potatoes. "I was a little worried when I didn't see you at first. You are feeling well?"

"Fine, my dear, fine," I said donning my apron.

"Oh good. Mama was telling me that they've had more people than normal coming through these days. I've been extra careful not to sit next to anyone sick in class. I was worried you might be ill."

I licked my lips thinking about what I had been doing. "No, the glow is not fever, Estelle. I assure you," I was blushing again.

Just then Edward stepped out of the bedroom, looking rested for all that he hadn't slept. "And how are the ladies?" he asked.

"Fine, Mr. Masen." Estelle answered. Her eyes widened as he kissed me.

"Edward," I warned, darting my eyes at her.

"Yes, well. Surely Estelle can forgive a husband's affections." His hand traced my cheek and chin and I blushed again. Estelle tittered.

"Off with you." I shoved him toward his pipe in the other room.

"Do you think I'll ever find anyone as fine as Mr. Masen?" Estelle asked me.

"I'm sure you will, my dear." I hugged her shoulders. "You'll have an Edward of your own one day."

I realized what I said and looked at her, hoping I hadn't offended. "I didn't mean to imply -" but she was blushing, her eyes downcast.

That was when little Edward arrived and Estelle nearly jumped out of her skin. "I won't tell," I promised, patting her hand.

Sadly, Estelle was right about the sickness. She was among the first to fall ill. I visited her often at the hospital and watched the wards fill. So many sick, so few to tend them. My men were able to look after themselves for the most part and I began assisting at the hospital. Not with patient care, but in the laundry and kitchen. Anything to free up more hands.

Each time I came to the ward, either just to visit Estelle or to drop off linens, I would spend nearly an hour helping change bed pans, lifting patients to ease their chests, filling glasses with water; any tiny thing that I could find. I was not alone among the volunteers. I saw many faces leave the ward, though few went home. It was heartbreaking to watch families bidding loved ones goodbye.

It was then that I saw Dr. Cullen in his element. He was a miracle-worker. I saw many, who were facing pneumonia, turn around under his care. It is also true I saw many die. Yet I was certain that number was lessened by his sure hands, his quick responses. He took time with each patient and family he passed, ensuring he'd done all he could for each. Alas, his help was not enough for Estelle.

When her state became grave, I asked Edward if he would visit her with me. I was afraid it might be his last chance to see his schoolfriend. He was somber as he accompanied me. I looked up at him, striking, beside me. When had he gotten so tall? I wished I had kept a copy of the essay I'd written Dr. Cullen so I could read it now. My little boy was no longer little. And he may well be facing losing a friend. Seeking a benefit, I hoped this might make him reconsider joining the war.

Estelle had lost consciousness. Jean was working double shifts to stay nearby. She was relieved to see us. "Oh, Elizabeth," she came to me, weeping.

"Go on, Edward." I urged him toward the beds while I tried to comfort Jean. "I am so sorry, Jean. I can only imagine what I would do in your place. Here," I pulled her to a chair and pressed her into it, crouching beside her. "Did I ever tell you I lost a daughter?" I felt my own eyes tear now, remembering my Isabella for the first time in a very very long time. "She never got to take a breath, but I loved her very much. I always hoped she would have been as wonderful as Estelle is. It would be like losing her again, if Estelle doesn't pull through."

She continued to weep and my tears brimmed over. "Where is Harold?" I asked her, "At home? Why don't you go to him. You two should be together. We'll stay with Estelle for now."

Jean rose still weeping and moved for the door. Dr. Cullen came in, doing his rounds. I joined Edward at Estelle's side. He held her hand. I put a hand on her forehead. It was too warm. We were still there when Dr. Cullen came to Estelle's bed. "Estelle Carpenter," he read aloud. "Still feverish?" he asked me and I nodded silently. "If she wakes, make sure she drinks." He nodded to the ewer and glass behind me. I nodded again.

"She loved me, didn't she, Mama." I looked at Edward and my lip trembled. His eyes were watery too.

"Don't use the past tense." I snapped closing my eyes against grief. "She still loves you, Edward. And we still love her." I leaned over and put my lips to her ear. "Keep fighting, Estelle," I whispered. But Estelle didn't recover and Edward never visited her again.

I blamed myself for what came next. Spending so much time working and visiting Estelle, I hadn't kept a closer watch on my Edwards. I came home to see Edward leaving for work. He was flushed and he coughed into his hand. I ran to him and put my arm to his head. Little Edward turned to us. "Edward. I need you to go the Tribune. Let them know your father will not be back to work until further notice."

Edward's face was grave. "Yes, Mama. May I take his place?"

"That is up to you, son. I'm taking your father to the hospital now." He nodded and grabbed his jacket.

"Mrs. Masen." Dr. Cullen greeted me. "Your husband, I presume?"

"Yes. He just started showing symptoms today." Edward shook his head and I sank onto his bed. No, they'd been going on longer. I just hadn't been there to see. I wept in my hands as he told Dr. Cullen that he'd started feeling ill a few weeks ago, but assumed it was just exhaustion. They were understaffed at the paper now. It was hard to listen to him describe the pains in his chest, the chills. I hadn't seen any of it. I had been too busy trying to help others; I'd forgotten to look after my own.

I felt a cold arm on my shoulders and I was lifted to my feet and shuffled to a chair. A strong scent filled my nose and my eyes widened. Dr. Cullen was looking at me intently. "Are you well, Elizabeth?" He asked me, his hand on my wrist.

I shook my head to clear it. "Well? No, not really, Dr. Cullen. I have been neglecting my family and am now paying the price." I began weeping again. "Edward is working in his father's place. I don't imagine he'll go back to school now. And Edward," I sniffled and looked toward my husband's bed. "I can't lose him, Dr. Cullen. I can't. I - I-"

"Hush," he hugged me again. He was cold. His embrace seemed to freeze me straight through. "Let me find Eloise." And he was gone. I didn't know how, but he took all my self-loathing with him. It was like when I'd lost Isabella. I shed that part of me and moved on. I stood up and walked to Edward's side.

I smiled at him and kissed his lips. "Dr. Cullen is the best physician in Chicago, you know," I informed him. "Between him and me, you're going to be just fine."

"Dr. Cullen?" he coughed. "The one sending you admiring letters. I knew I should be worried."

"Oh, hush you," I silenced him with another kiss. He closed his eyes to sleep.

I started to feel a heaviness in my chest a week later. I knew I had the flu, but I refused to admit it to anyone. Edward and I ate supper together at the hospital every night before he left for work at the Tribune. He didn't visit his father who had never awoken again. I didn't want him in that ward again if I could help it. He covered my hand with his and looked back at me with my own eyes. I could see my condition reflected in them. I knew he knew. "Don't worry. And don't tell anyone." I ordered.

He nodded and kissed my cheek before leaving. I clutched his wrist. "And don't kiss me again," I said in a half-wail. He hugged me as I cried, "No," I tried to push him away, still shouting. "Go, don't come back. Don't come back here, Edward." I fought him, pushing him away from me.

"I'm not leaving you, Mama. If you can be strong through this so can I," he vowed to me. Then he kissed my forehead and left.

Nurse Hart found me still sitting there an hour later. "Elizabeth?"

I took a deep breath and rose. "Eloise."

She smiled and walked with me back to the ward.

My chest grew tighter, but my son defied me and visited once a week. He never entered the ward, though I knew he worried for his father. I wasn't ready, though I should have been, when Edward passed. He had been declining so long, unconscious. I left the hospital for a time. I sat alone on our bed reading my letter to him. Edward found me there when he came home from work.

"Mama?" he asked. I didn't have to tell him, he already knew. He cried with me that day, although he knew it would mean a hard night for him. Each time I tried to urge him to his bed, he refused to go. "Lay here with me, Mama." He held me and kissed my head. My son was a man. There was no denying it any longer. My beautiful Edward.

He went to work that night though I insisted he not. If he'd still been a boy I would have sat on him to keep him at home. I wished he'd still been a boy. Only days later he showed the symptoms. Dr. Cullen was not happy to see me again. "Not Edward too," he moaned. I only nodded and mopped my son's brow. My chest had been growing cloudier for months now, but I pulled all my reserve strength to tend to Edward. I poured water down his throat when I could and put wet cloths to his lips when I couldn't. I held him up so he could cough when he needed. As had happened to so many his age, he deteriorated quickly.

"Edward?" I shook myself awake hearing Dr. Cullen's voice and coughed loudly and hard. I winced. I tried so diligently not to do that. He was handing Edward something, a piece of paper. I recognized my writing. I looked to Dr. Cullen's face. He met my eyes and frowned. "Elizabeth?" It seemed too quick that he was at my side. His hand was cold on my head and it woke me further.

"Yes, Dr. Cullen. Thank you. I was hoping you still had that. Though I'd intended to read it myself, not give it to Edward."

"Mama?" he asked now.

I rose shakily, Dr. Cullen steadied me on his arm. "Yes, Edward."

"I thought I knew. I didn't know the half." His eyes were misty. Then he coughed.

"You knew more, sweetheart. You knew the me I left behind, and the me I drag on. You made her who she is. You are the reason she is." I kissed his forehead and then collapsed.

I woke on a bed next to Edward. I frowned and pushed myself to my feet, moving to his side.

"Elizabeth!" Nurse Hart shouted at me.

"Edward?" I whispered. He didn't answer. He wasn't awake. He didn't answer. "Edward!"

I sank to my knees weeping and coughing intermittently. Nurse Hart tried to lift me to my bed, but I fought her. Dr. Cullen finally came and lifted me despite my flailing and screaming.

He pinned my arms to my chest and looked straight into my eyes. He didn't smell right, too floral, it woke me up. "Elizabeth," his voice was commanding. "You must rest. You can't help Edward this way. You've already pressed yourself too far. He has a better chance of surviving that you, and he's unconscious." That brought me up short. Usually people in this ward never woke again.

"You can save him. I know you can't save all them, I know how hard you try. But you can save my Edward. Promise me. Promise me you will. Save him!" I held his eyes now with my own.

"I will do everything in my power."

He turned to leave but I jumped out of my bed coughing and clutching at him. His arm was hard and cold as ice. "You must. Everything in your power. What others cannot do, you must do." He was an Angel, he could do it. Even if it meant he made Edward and Angel too, as long as he saved him.

Suddenly I was both standing and lying on the floor. I didn't understand. I watched Dr. Cullen lift me from the floor and place me on the bed, yet I still stood. I walked to Edward's side. He was grave. I tried to take his hand, but was unable. Dr. Cullen was still checking over me. Why? He had to save Edward, I'd told him that. A while later he was standing beside me, looking down at Edward with me.

"Everything in my power," he whispered. His voice sounded like singing. How had I not noticed that before? This was it, the angel was going to save my son. He wheeled Edward's bed out of the ward. I followed behind him. I stopped for a moment at the door to the morgue.

I saw Nurse Hart stop too. "Edward," she whispered. "Elizabeth!" she said louder and ran back the way I'd come. I walked forward through the doors.

Dr. Cullen was lifting my son from his bed. Here, then? I wondered. But he carried Edward from the hospital and I continued to follow, though my strength seemed to wane the further we went. Not my strength, my weight. I seemed less tied to the Earth with each step. That was when I first realized I was a ghost, but I continued to follow Dr. Cullen to his apartment. There he lay Edward on his own bed. Now, I thought. Now he will save him.

He leaned over Edward. An angel's kiss? I thought. But it wasn't. He bit Edward and I saw blood well.

"NO!" I screamed. My strength increased though my weight lessened again. The shutters on the windows rattled and the lights flickered. I watched as he bit Edward again and again. I threw myself at the demon, trying to pry him from my son.

He was launched backward and I sank over my son's body, praying he'd stay with me. Edward's eyes opened and he screamed too.

Dr. Cullen was back, putting his hands over Edward's mouth. "I know it hurts. It will stop. I promise."

But Edward's screams didn't stop, and neither did mine. Dr. Cullen finally turned off the lights and closed the shutters. I stayed in that room with them for three days, each day growing lighter, less held to the Earth. The only thing holding me now was Edward. I clung to him as I had when he was small.

Then. The screaming stopped. His eyes opened for this first time in many hours, and they were red. He sat up. "Dr. Cullen?" he asked.

"Carlisle."

"Carlisle, where is my mother?"

I tried to grab him to show him I was here, but I was pulled away now, too light be tied here any longer, and my Edward was gone, I couldn't hold him either.

Edward cocked his head as though listening to something. "I'm still me, Mama," he whispered. And I floated away.


	3. Tribute to Edward Anthony

_So, Elizabeth has to be extremely concise to fit into tiny gaps in the paper. Hope you appreciate her essays._

There is a boy with eyes so clear, they see into my soul. All my masks fall away under his gaze. He hears past my words straight to my heart.

There is a boy with a heart so pure, he reaches over all walls. He gives freely of himself to all fortunate enough to gain his trust. He risks himself for those he loves.

There is a boy with a mind so sharp; he solves riddles I wouldn't dare to try. He reaches dreams and ideals that cripple the less imaginative. He has the power to make dreams come true.

There is a boy who fills my soul. His every breath, every thought, every word brings meaning to my days and peace to my mind. Without him, I am naught. My life is nothing and my words, my deeds, become dust on the wind.

There is Edward Anthony Masen, and there is no other.


	4. Ode to Nurse Hart

When one finds herself alone in a world of love, she comforts. When one lies in pain on a bed of fire, she cares. When one sheds tears of remorse for loss, she wipes them away.

A woman, who of all women, bears her soul in her hands, and distributes it freely to her charges. She finds the deepest need and does all in her power to meet it. She takes their pain to her heart and eases all of it she can. From the greatest of feats to the meanest of trivial tasks, she tackles each with the same diligence and precision one would save for those most dear.

Eloise Hart. Could she have a more appropriate name? Heart for all she meets. Heart in all she does. Heart in all she gives.


	5. Carlisle's tribute to Elizabeth

There is a woman I think I'll never know. I would that I could. Her words captivate me and not me alone. She holds dear those she keeps near. If only there were a way I could be one of those. To be visited upon by kind words and caresses. To have the privilege of sharing her smile and laugh. To have the ache of her shared tears. To find her inner self and call her friend is more than I can hope for. If such were possible, with any on this earth, I believe she would be the best friend any man could dream to have. Surely none would wither under her care. None would starve for affection, for attention. One might only starve from lack of ever seeing her most beautiful and pure soul.

Your friend,

Carlisle Cullen


	6. A Love, A Man

_It doesn't say it, but this is, of course, her essay for her husband._

When I close my eyes, I see a love that blinds me. A love that would give its only light to guide my way. A love that would give its last bite to feed me. A love that would move heaven and earth to create a space for me. It is a love that would give its last breath to give me life. And it is a love that would give all its heat to warm my nights.

When I open my eyes, I see a man. A man with fingers, black. A man with eyes of brown. A man with a smile that lights my mornings. A man with arms that protect and save. A man who embodies all the love I see when I close my eyes again. And I dream of his heat, warming my soul.


	7. Big News! I'm Published!

Let me start by saying I'm only go to do this once. I promise.

Next, if you noticed a lot of chapter alerts with the same title, that's because they're all the same, skip/delete the others.

Finally, I wanted to give this big news to as many people as I could, which is the only reason I'm doing this (see first point)

Okay! The good news! I'm published!

That's right! If you've enjoyed my stories, which I bet you have as you've put me on alert, now is your chance to read a completely original story written by yours truly.

Cargon: Honour & Privilege is my first novel, but I already have two more complete manuscripts, so a second isn't far off. It is set on a future earth after a cataclysmic even has destroyed nearly all of our technology. It is the time of the second renaissance. The story revolves around Eve, a servant in a caste-style society who has the nerve and the guile to step out of her set role and take on a new and much loftier one.

Here's the back blurb:

* * *

Lives are won, lost and traded on the three-tiered Cargon boards.

Eve, a serving-girl, has watched the elite from the outside, seen the dramatic shifts based on the results of the Game. With a growing need to reach beyond her station, she can no longer accept her position on the edges.

Wagering her own life, she wins and emerges in a strange new world. New rules and old acquaintances tangle to make Eve's life less comfortable than her position would suggest.

One pawn moved, but an entire world shaken – Eve will change the world.

* * *

Copies are available at Amazon (kindle and paper versions) and signed copies, as well as information about up-coming book, blog posts from me, tour dates as I book them, are all be available on my website: Kimmydonn. com

I'm so excited about this, my first release. I've had a bit of a stumble out of the gate and that's gotten me down, but I'm hoping some of you will perk me back up, possibly with sales, but even with just reviews/PMs of congrats. I'll appreciate all of them.

I thought I'd finish by including an excerpt from the book. After demonstrating her wit to the High One, Eve was moved into classes with elite. She is still a servant, still apart from them, but in their realm. (Excuse the formatting, I pulled this from my final PDF copy ;)

* * *

Awaking early from the nightmare, she entered the classroom  
an hour before the elite students. Even so, the Ernst was there  
ahead of her. "If a rock is placed in the sea, does the rock become  
wet or does the sea become rocky?"

Eve smiled, but didn't raise her eyes. This was exactly the sort  
of question he would ask his class. "Both. The rock joins those on  
the bottom, making the sea rocky. As well, the rock, having space  
within, takes in water, becoming wet."

The Ernst smiled at her. "And, if the rock were not porous?"

"Then only the sea would become rocky, as the rock would  
retain no water upon removal. Nor, if the rock were the only one in  
the sea could the sea be said to be rocky either. Was this the only  
rock in the sea?" Only after she asked did she realize she was  
looking up at the Ernst.

His milky blue eyes shone. "You are a fine student. Take your  
place," he sighed. Eve heard the students approaching. Today, the  
Ernst quizzed his students on the nature of time and its flow. Was  
it even, like water poured from a pitcher, or variable like the wind?  
Eve imagined it was choppy like water in a stream. It generally  
flowed in one direction, but it was possible to be thrown back, with  
memory and dream, to an earlier time, only to be rushed forward  
again. She made plans to write this after class was complete.

Prince Louis came to her as he had so many times before. He  
was significantly older than his classmates, making Eve wonder  
why he was still here. His hand came to rest over her breasts,  
where she had pinned the bloom today.

"That bloom will never fade. I think his attention is not so  
constant. But mine is, as you can see." Eve set her teeth at that. She  
taunted him, but did not seek his affections. Prince Louis put his  
nose to her hair now, inhaling deeply. He sighed. "Would you taste  
as wonderful as you smell, I wonder?" His hand traced down her  
side, just off her skin. It brushed the fabric of her skirt, and she  
stepped to the side. It was not strictly permitted, but neither was  
his touch.

He sidestepped with her, grinning now. "Skittish. I like that.  
Where will you jump to next?" He moved to place his hand on her  
chest again, and she leaned away to her left, twisting from him.  
Her skirts brushed his legs. That wasn't permitted either. She  
backed away again.

He continued to pursue her as she backed herself into the  
corner. He put his hands to either side of her head, trapping her  
effectively. Finally, unable to find another response, she turned her  
eyes level to his. In them she held all of her hatred, her anger, his  
loss of honour. Would he continue to ignore the impropriety he  
was inflicting? Would he simply accept the slight she had  
delivered by staring him down?

He seemed to, showing no offence and instead dipping his  
nose to her bloom. He was nearly touching her breasts. She tried  
not to breathe while he inhaled deeply. "Smells wonderful, but I  
think that's not the bloom. I do wish our stations were not so  
distant." He pulled his arms away and turned from her.

It had been over a year since the first time he had approached  
her, but for the second time she fell to the floor in relief. She had  
nearly spat on him! He would have had her beaten severely for  
that. She sniffled, and only then realized tears streamed her face.  
She pulled a kerchief and wiped them away before rising. She took  
one more deep breath and strode to her lunch with what time  
remained.

* * *

If you'd like to read a larger sample, there are a few chapters available on Google Books. Thanks so much for reading!


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